The Wedding Escape (14 page)

“Hello, Charlie,” he said, the calmness of his voice belying the gravity of their situation. “I think it's time we got off this ship, don't you?”

“I ain't goin' into that fire!”

“Me, neither. I just ran through it, and I didn't find it a particularly pleasant experience.”

“I ain't jumpin' neither! I can't swim!”

“I won't let you drown, Charlie. I give you my word.”

Charlie regarded him helplessly, his eyes wide with fear.

“Take my hand.” Jack's voice was gentle but firm as he extended his hand to the shivering boy. “That's all I want you to do. Just take my hand.”

“You'll try to push me off,” he said accusingly.

“I won't,” Jack promised. “You're a young man, Charlie, not a child. You have the right to choose to die if you want to. And if you want to stay here and be burned alive, I'll respect your wishes. Is that what you want?”

He frantically shook his head.

“Then take my hand.”

Charlie whimpered, then reached out and grabbed Jack's hand.

“Good.” Jack held him tightly. “Now we're going to climb over the railing together, and then we're going to just step off the ship. There's really nothing more to it than that.”

Dazed with terror, Charlie allowed Jack to guide him over the railing. Suddenly he froze, clinging to the rail with one hand, holding fast to Jack with the other.

“I'll drown,” Charlie whispered, staring at the inky depths below.

“No, you won't. For a few seconds you'll fly through the air, and then you'll hit the water. Hold your breath and keep your mouth and eyes closed. I'll grab you and pull you up. Ready?”

Charlie looked terrified, but he nodded.

“All right then, let's go.”

Amelia watched in awe as Jack and the boy stepped off the ship, holding hands. Charlie's scream split the air, and then was obliterated by the splash of the water. Both disappeared for a few interminable seconds, rendering the night grimly silent.

Then Jack exploded from the water, holding a gasping, choking Charlie in his arms.

A resounding cheer burst from the men and women crowded upon the docks and clinging to barrels and crates in the water. Holding fast to the boy, Jack swam over to the skiff that was rowing out to meet them, and helped the men on it pull Charlie safely aboard. Then he climbed into the boat himself and set to work helping the rest of his ship's crew out of the river.

“ 'Tis a fine thing ye did, lad,” Oliver said gruffly when Jack finally stood, cold and dripping, upon the wharf. “Ye made me right proud.”

Amelia hurried over from where she had been helping the men and women distribute their ragged shawls and blankets to the shivering crew members. She studied Jack anxiously. “Are you all right?”

Her once artfully arranged hair was falling in tangled disarray around her shoulders, her cheeks and hands were smudged with dirt, and her elegant evening gown was badly torn. Jack thought she looked unbelievably beautiful. “I'm fine.”

“The crew is all accounted for, Mr. Kent, sir,” said a lean, gray-haired man of about forty-five. “For a while we thought Evans, Lewis, and Ritchie were missing, but we've just found them—they were visitin' the taverns when the
Liberty
caught fire.”

“Where was everyone when the fire broke out, Captain MacIntosh?” asked Jack.

“Most of the crew had retired for the night,” the captain replied. “With the
Liberty
due to sail the day after tomorrow, we've been breakin' our backs these past few days getting our cargo and supplies stowed and ready. Most of the men were just too tired to go lookin' for—” He glanced uneasily at Amelia, taking note of her elaborate jewels and expensive gown. “Entertainment,” he finished delicately.

“Who was on watch?”

“Davis and Patterson. I've already talked to them. They said a carriage came round about an hour ago, with two fancy gents in it. They asked Davis if he'd seen another carriage before them. He told them he hadn't, and they moved on down the wharf. Other than that, nothin' was amiss.”

Jack saw Amelia's face pale. He had to get her out of there soon, he realized. While he doubted either his sailors or the men and women who had been sleeping on the docks could read a newspaper, it was possible someone had seen her picture and knew of the reward being offered for her capture. Standing on the docks in a ball gown with her jewels sparkling against her skin, she was certainly arousing their curiosity, especially now that the crew from the
Liberty
was safe.

“The fire probably began in the engine room,” suggested Captain MacIntosh. “The boiler must have exploded.”

“It seems unlikely that the boiler would explode when the ship was docked,” Jack observed.

“Then it had to be the coal cargo,” the captain decided. “That's a tricky one to stow. It lets off dangerous gases when it's all piled up in a hold. Sometimes they smolder, and suddenly—boom.”

“Or maybe a lantern caught a whiff of the gases and set it off,” suggested Oliver.

Jack said nothing. He was well aware that coal fires accounted for a high number of British ships being lost each year—sometimes as many as a hundred. He did not particularly like transporting coal for that very reason. But it was a major British export, and as the owner of a struggling shipping company, he could not afford to be overly discriminating about his cargoes. Even so, he didn't believe that the boiler or its coal had caused the fire on the
Liberty
.

Someone was trying to destroy his company, and with the loss of the
Liberty,
they had come very close to succeeding.

“She'll burn the better part of the night,” reflected Oliver. “Nothin' we can do for her.”

“A shame.” Captain MacIntosh regarded the ship mournfully. “She wasn't much to look at, but she was a tough old thing. She had at least another ten years in her.”

Jack scanned the crowd of people clustered around the docks, wondering if any of them had played a part in the destruction of his ship. It was even possible the vandals were amongst his crew. He searched for some sign of Quinn or his men, but didn't see them. He had instructed Lionel Hobson to fire Quinn, but only after he had found a replacement. It seemed unlikely that he would have been able to do so in such a short period of time. It didn't matter. Watched or not, the
Liberty
had been destroyed, along with her cargo.

It was a terrible blow.

“What do ye want to do now, lad?” asked Oliver.

“Perhaps we should return to your parents' house,” Amelia suggested hopefully.

Jack shook his head. “The
Charlotte
is moored not far from here. We'll take her instead. Captain MacIntosh, I need you to select a crew member who can be trusted and knows how to drive a carriage to come with us and take my carriage back to my parents' house,” he continued. “The rest of the crew can go home. You will visit my office tomorrow morning and tell Hobson what has happened. He should contact our client and advise them that our insurance company will cover the loss of their cargo. The authorities will also have to be notified so they can make a report.” Which, Jack reflected, would uncover nothing. “Advise Hobson that I have taken the
Charlotte
. I will contact him when she becomes available again, should anyone be interested in hiring her.”

“Yes, sir.” Captain MacIntosh stared at his burning ship a long moment. “I'm sorry, sir,” he apologized gravely. “The
Liberty
was my responsibility. I failed both you and her.”

“We'll get past this, Captain,” Jack said briskly, trying to diminish the seriousness of the situation. Captain MacIntosh was a good man and an excellent sailor, and Jack did not believe he had anything to do with the destruction of the
Liberty
. “None of the crew was lost or injured, and that is the most important thing. Unfortunately, I've no openings on any of my remaining ships for a captain. But as soon as I find a vessel to replace the
Liberty,
I'll be contacting you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Of course he couldn't even remotely afford another ship, and the insurance he had on the
Liberty
would not be nearly enough to replace her. But Jack did not want anyone to think that her loss was significant enough to ruin him. If word of that got out, then he would be ruined for certain.

“Here is some money.” He pulled some wet notes from his billfold. “If any of the men don't have a place to go tonight, see that they have shelter and a hot meal. I will make sure they are reasonably compensated for their loss of work, but in the meantime they will have to look for other employment. Unfortunately, I don't have another ship to put them on.”

“The men will understand, sir. Thank you.”

Jack turned and offered his arm to Amelia. “Come.”

She looked at the ragged men, women, and children still crowded around the rescued crew, sharing their filthy, torn blankets and sips from their precious bottles of cheap spirits.

She removed one of her emerald earrings and pressed it into Captain MacIntosh's hand. “Do you think if you sold this you would have enough to give these people some decent food and blankets?”

Captain MacIntosh regarded her in astonishment.

“That isn't necessary—” Jack began.

“I'm not leaving until Captain MacIntosh assures me that tomorrow night these people will have blankets and bread,” Amelia insisted. “If he won't do it, then I shall stay here and see to it myself.”

Oliver's mouth twitched with amusement. “I wouldna bother to argue, lad. Ye know how the lass is once she sets her mind on something.”

Jack sighed. “Take the earring to Hobson and tell him that I want him to come down here tomorrow night and distribute blankets, bread, cheese, and dried beef to everyone.” He specifically failed to mention what Hobson should actually do with the earring. He recalled that they had been a gift from Amelia's father, and he did not want her to lose one of the few precious items that remained from her former life. Instead, he would pay for the supplies himself.

“And fruit,” Amelia added. “The children need to have fruit.”

“And fruit,” repeated Jack.

“And all the children must be fitted for new shoes,” Amelia continued. “And new stockings too, so they don't get blisters.”

Jack regarded her incredulously. There had to be at least fifty children crowded on the docks. Outfitting each of them with new shoes and stockings would cost a fortune.

“Here.” Amelia realized that everything she was asking for probably cost more than one earring. “You will get more for them if you sell them as a set.” She dropped the other sparkling gem into the captain's palm. “The stones are quite clear and their color is excellent—and it would really please me to know that they had been used to help feed and clothe these people.” She regarded him hopefully. “Perhaps you will have enough to also buy the women new shawls?”

“Thank you, your ladyship,” said Captain MacIntosh, stunned. “I'm sure the people here will be most appreciative of your generosity. Who shall I say is their benefactress?”

“Her ladyship prefers to remain anonymous,” Jack swiftly interjected. He took Amelia's arm and began to steer her toward the carriage before she completely bankrupted him.

“Just tell them an angel crossed their path tonight,” said Oliver, chuckling. “A bonny wee angel.”

He turned to follow Jack and Amelia, leaving everyone else silhouetted against the glare of the brilliantly burning ship.

Chapter Seven

O
NE STEP CLOSER AND I'LL BLAST YE SO FULL OF
bloody holes the rats'll be lickin' ye off the dock.”

Jack looked up to see an elfin man with a wild bush of red hair pointing a rifle at him.

“Good evening, Henry. I've come to take the
Charlotte
out for a run.”

The scrawny sprite squinted at him through the darkness, still clutching his enormous firearm. “Saint Ninian's ballocks!” he roared. “Drummond! Finlay! Get yer fat, hairy arses over here and drop the gangplank—Captain Kent has come—and Oliver, too, by the look of it!”

“Here now, we'll have none o' that kind of talk, Henry,” scolded Oliver, frowning as he climbed from the carriage. “There's a lady present.”

“A lady?” Henry seemed dumbfounded by the idea. “Ye're nae thinkin' of bringin' her aboard, are ye?”

“Actually, yes,” said Jack.

Henry stared in awe at Amelia as she emerged from the carriage, taking in her uncommon beauty and the extravagance of her gown and jewels. “Saint Ninian's ball—”

“Stop!” barked Oliver. “One more curse and I'll scour yer filthy tongue with soap!”

“Yer pardon, yer ladyship,” Henry apologized, chastened. “I fear I've been away at sea too long to remember to hold my tongue when a lady is near.”

“Have no fear, sir.” Amelia smiled at the diminutive, middle-aged man, amused. “I have heard colorful language before, and am not bothered by it.”

Jack regarded her curiously. “Where would you have heard ‘colorful language'?”

“You forget, my father's beginnings were extremely simple,” Amelia reminded him. “He has been known to utter a blasphemous word or two when his patience is sorely tried.”

“Judgin' by the way you two came crashin' out of that ball, I'd wager he fairly spewed foul words this evening,” said Oliver, chuckling.

“Good evening, yer ladyship.” Henry managed an awkward bow as Jack led Amelia onto the deck. “I'm Henry, and this here's Drummond, and that's Finlay.” He gestured at the two rough-looking men who were practically folded over beside him, staring solemnly at their knees.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” said Amelia, speaking as if she had just been introduced to three lords at a ball. “I'm so sorry if we have inconvenienced you in any way with our unexpected arrival.”

“ 'Tis nae bother,” Finlay assured her cheerfully, springing up again. He was a tall, gangly-looking fellow of about twenty-five, with scraggly black hair that he wore tied back with an oily scrap of leather.

“We wasn't doin' much.” Shorter in stature and five times wider, Drummond made a formidable impression with his muscled arms, enormous shaved head, and the thick gold hoop that dangled from one fleshy ear. “We was just watchin' the fire down the river.”

“Went off like a firecracker, she did.” Henry shook his head mournfully. “A terrible thing to lose a ship to a fire.”

“Unfortunately, that's the
Liberty
burning,” Jack told them.

“No!” Finlay's eyes rounded with shock. “What happened?”

“It isn't clear how the fire started, but I suspect it was another attack by vandals.”

“Filthy devils!” spat Henry, gripping his towering rifle. “They'd best nae try anythin' round the
Charlotte,
by God, or I'll blast their scurvy arses from here to China!” His expression brightened suddenly. “Would ye like me to go over and shoot them?”

“I'm afraid they're probably gone, Henry,” Jack replied.

The little man looked disappointed. “How about I fire a few shots into the air, then, just as a warnin'?”

“That won't be necessary.”

“Are ye sure?”

“I'm sure.”

Henry muttered something under his breath.

“Was anyone hurt?” wondered Drummond.

“Everyone made it off safely, but the ship is destroyed,” Jack told him. “Consequently we are going to be sailing the
Charlotte
to Inverness tonight. I trust we have enough crew aboard to make the trip?”

“Aye, we do,” Henry assured him excitedly. “An' they've been itchin' to sail for weeks now.”

“They're down below snorin' like bairns, but when I ring that bell they'll come runnin'!” Finlay hurried toward an enormous brass bell.

“I'd prefer it if you rouse them quietly, Finlay,” Jack said. “I don't want to attract any attention as we leave.”

Henry cocked a fiery eyebrow, instantly intrigued. “Sneakin' away, are we now?”

“Are ye bein' followed, then?” asked Drummond.

“The lass is,” Oliver affirmed. “There's some nasty scoundrels searchin' for her as we speak, and she doesna want to be found.”

“Have no fear, yer ladyship.” Henry raised his rifle once more. “If they dare show their ugly faces when I'm about, I'll shoot the buggers from here to—”

“No!” Amelia gasped.

He stared at her in confusion. “Ye don't want them dead?”

“Actually, no. But thank you so much for offering,” she added politely, not wanting him to think she didn't appreciate his concern. “It was most kind.”

Henry reluctantly lowered his weapon once more. “Ye'll let me know if ye change yer mind?”

“I certainly will.”

“Finlay, wake the rest of the crew and tell them to take their positions,” commanded Jack. Although he didn't think Percy and William would return to the docks, it was possible that by now Amelia's father had the authorities searching the city for her. The last thing he needed was for Henry to shoot at some startled constable. “Drummond, release the ropes. We're leaving.”

“Aye, Captain!”

The sleepy crew of the
Charlotte
hurried onto the deck and set to work. Jack gave them their orders from the ship's wheel, skillfully guiding his vessel through the dark passage of the Thames while most of London slept. Amelia found a place to stand where she wasn't in anyone's way, and watched him in silence from the shadows.

He stood with his long legs braced apart and his hands gripping the wheel, oblivious to the chill of the wind gusting against his wet clothes. All that remained of the ill-fitting servant's uniform he had donned to sneak his way into the Wilkinsons' ball was his thin white shirt and dark trousers. He had rolled up his sleeves and his shirt had opened, revealing heavily muscled arms and a powerful expanse of sun-bronzed chest. His damp hair was dark and curling against his neck, and more hair grew upon his chest and down the flat plane of his belly before disappearing beneath the narrow waistband of his trousers. There was a fierce intensity to him as he stood there, expertly easing his magnificent ship along the moon-kissed ribbon of black, shifting the wheel with a sure, steady rhythm that demonstrated both his proficiency as a captain and his love for his craft.

He was a man who was capable of masquerading as a common worker or an ancient servant, adopting with apparent ease the mannerisms and the speech of the characters he chose to emulate. He had lived a life of privilege as the son of the Marquess of Redmond, yet he was strangely contemptuous of those who were of noble rank, a dichotomy that she was not able to comprehend. He owned a shipping line, which Amelia had assumed meant that he directed the contracts and negotiations involved in managing a fleet of ships. But it was evident that he also occasionally sailed those ships himself, and judging by the respect his crew accorded him as they hurried to do his bidding, he did so with skill and confidence. More, he was a man who despite his brusque manner cared deeply about the welfare of others—even those he barely knew. Amelia had understood that from the moment he agreed to help her escape.

But she had not understood the depths of Jack's compassion until that night, when he charged through fire to take a boy's hand and leap from the deck of an exploding ship.

“Have you eaten anything this evening?” Jack asked, suddenly noticing Amelia.

“I'm not hungry.”

He frowned. “Have you eaten anything today?”

“I had tea and toast this morning.”

“That's all?”

“That's enough,” she assured him.

“Do you have anything to offer our guest, Henry?” Jack wondered, turning to the little man.

“There's boiled pig's trotters with cabbage and dumplings. Finlay and Drummond said it was the best they'd ever tasted,” he boasted.

Amelia's stomach lurched. “I'm sure it's wonderful,” she managed politely, “but I'm really not hungry.”

“Take some to our guest once she has been settled in my cabin,” Jack instructed, ignoring Amelia's protest. “There's a chest in there with some clothes in it,” he told her. “They aren't women's garments, but you can help yourself to anything you like.”

“Thank you.”

“Right this way, yer ladyship.” Henry bowed and pointed his rifle toward the cabins.

Amelia took a last look at Jack standing tall on the deck of his ship, appearing more at ease than he had the entire time she had known him.

And then she turned and wearily followed Henry below deck.

 

S
MOKY STRIPS OF PEACH UNRAVELED ACROSS THE
leaden sky, pressing against the night with a slow seepage of glorious color and light. Jack flexed his arms and shifted his neck from side to side, groaning at the cracking of his spine and the taut pull of his aching muscles. He had remained at the wheel of the
Charlotte
throughout the night, easing her along her inky path toward the English Channel and the North Sea. It had been too long since he had experienced the pleasure of sailing her, for his business dictated that he travel aboard one of his faster steamships now. Even though he could have relinquished the wheel to Henry long ago, he had stayed where he was, enjoying the warmth of her polished wood against his callused palms and the slow shifting of her deck beneath his legs. He knew that if his shipping line were to grow and be successful, he would have to stay abreast of new technology and invest in more steamships, particularly now that the
Liberty
had been destroyed. But no steamship could ever compare to the sweet creaks and rolls of his beautiful, aging clipper, and the sensation of her cleaving a path across the ocean with nothing but clean sea air swelling her sails.

“Ye've nae been to bed, have ye?” Oliver scowled as he emerged from the cabins below.

Jack shrugged. “I'm not tired.”

“Ye look bloody awful. Ye'd best find yerself a place to catch a wink or two afore ye stumble over yer feet and fall smack into the sea.”

“I'm fine, Oliver.”

“Fine or no, ye've been at that wheel long enough,” Oliver retaliated. “If Miss Genevieve knew ye'd been sailin' all night in soppin' wet clothes with nae to eat or drink, ye'd nae hear the end of it. Unless ye want yer ears blistered when ye get home, ye'd best get yerself below and get some sleep.”

“That's blackmail.”

“Aye—and if ye think an old thief like myself doesna enjoy a wee bit o' blackmail now an' again, then it's plain ye've been away from the life too long.”

Jack sighed. For Oliver, Jack would always be a lad of fourteen, which meant there was no peace when the old servant was about. “Very well. You can take over now, Henry.” He motioned to the little sailor, who was sitting on a barrel lovingly polishing his rifle. “Call me if there are any problems.”

“I'm sure Henry can handle the
Charlotte
for a few hours while ye sleep,” said Oliver, making it clear that Henry was not to disturb Jack over any trifling matter. “Can't ye?”

“'Course I can.” Henry looked insulted. “I've been sailin' since the captain here was pissin' in his nappies.”

“There, ye see, lad?” said Oliver. “Nae to worry about.”

“Try not to shoot anyone while I'm gone,” Jack said, relinquishing the wheel to Henry.

“I'll only shoot someone if I have to,” Henry promised. “Ye know, if pirates try to take over the ship, for instance, or if those rogues come lookin' for her ladyship.”

“Call me first.”

“I will for sure,” Henry promised solemnly, watching as Jack went below.

“If there's time,” he added, smiling to himself.

 

T
HE CORRIDOR OF THE DECK BELOW WAS QUIET EXCEPT
for the sighing of the ship and the peaceful snores of the crew who had returned to their cabins to sleep. The
Charlotte
was not full, so Jack was certain he would find an empty bed somewhere. He stripped off his damp shirt as he walked down the narrow hallway, weary and stiff, looking forward to lying down and being rocked to sleep by the gentle movements of his ship.

As he passed the door of his cabin there was a muffled sound. He paused, unsure whether or not he had actually heard anything. For a long moment there was silence.

And then the weeping began again, soft and thin and achingly sad.

He rapped upon the door. “Amelia.”

There was an abrupt silence. He waited a moment, listening. He knew she had deliberately quieted herself. He stood there, torn. Should he stay and insist she see him, or leave and grant her the privacy she obviously wanted? After a long moment, he started to walk away. Before he reached the end of the corridor the thready sound of crying began again.

Damning the rules of appropriate behavior to hell, he strode down the hall and opened the door.

The cabin was shrouded in gray gloom, with only the palest of light filtering weakly through the porthole. It took him a moment to adjust to the darkness. When he did, he saw Amelia lying huddled upon the bed, cocooned in blankets, and perfectly still. It was clear she was hoping that her feigned sleep would convince him that he had been mistaken and send him from the chamber.